* * * * *
Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.
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My latest Master is such a strong, masculine specimen. He's pounding his new mindfucked girlfriend into the corner of his bedroom, driving her head between two pillows while she writhes in ecstasy. Even as he does this--her long legs wrapped around his waist so she can use all available leverage to pump back into him, her young fresh hot pussy deliciously wet and needy--he's finger-fucking her blindingly hot step-sister into oblivion. The two step-sisters kiss madly, passionately, loving each other almost as much as they love him, though of course he comes first.
He's the Master. He always comes first.
But he certainly doesn't
cum
first. He's been making them cum from the second they saw his Cock, when he disrobed and let them suckle and moan and kiss and adore him for an hour of hot, long foreplay.
Now, though, he's ready to finish. Ready to erupt. Ready to claim ownership of their pussies once and for all. He's got everything he could ever want--massive power, incredible wealth, an amazing body, and gorgeous women dripping wet at the sound of his voice.
And it's all thanks to me! I'm his own personal genie...and all I want in the world is to make him Hard and Happy forever.
He makes the wishes, but I made this happen.
* * * * *
"You, then. I want to fuck you."
After centuries of practice, it's no struggle to keep my eyes un-rolled. Instead, I smile brightly. I've just showed up in his living room, carefully avoiding the bong and the beer cans as I supplicate myself before him as is required. There's no sense in making him feel
bad
about how basic this wish is.
"Sorry, sweetie. That's not the rules."
How disappointed he is actually makes me like him more.
"But...fuck, though. You're so hot."
"I know."
I really fucking am. I'm the hottest girl I've ever seen, and I've been around for a long, long time. People try to tell you that aesthetics have changed, that what men want or what turns people on is a cultural thing. But I've got huge tits, great hair, perfect skin, long legs, and an angelic face, and I always seem to give men the
biggest
hard-ons--and I've been alive for thousands of years. Who are you gonna believe?
"Your tits are like...wow."
He could be a poet.
My name is Zanthia. A very, very long time ago--so long ago even I don't remember it, and I remember most things--I was a mortal girl who angered the wrong demon spirit and was turned into a genie to amuse him. As far as I know, that demon spirit is still out there somewhere, laughing away at me.
I can't remember if I was beautiful then or not, but I definitely am now as I said. If women could summon me--and they can't--they'd all wish for my face. Even models would kill for it. I can already see this newest Master--his name is Xavier--falling deeply in love with me. I'm used to it. Every Master I have does.
All for nothing, really. I can't be fucked. Can't even touch cock. It's one of the rules.
It makes me sad, sometimes, but at least I can still cum to my heart's content whenever I want.
If this new Master and I were in a cafe or a restaurant, with the way I look, any passers-by would think this guy had hired himself the top prostitute in the city. But we're in his apartment. His dingy, sub-expectations, frankly insulting kind of apartment. It's one of I think twelve in the same building, vertically built in the middle of the city.
Outside, I can tell there are other similar apartment buildings nearby. There's a pool and an overworked laundry center that they all share. Parking is usually terrible, even with assigned spots, and his car is going to break down in about five hundred miles.
I can tell these things from a gentle, quick, low-level scan of the area. The longer I'm in a place, the more I know about it. The more I know about it, the more I can change.
And, ho boy, there's a
lot
to change about this place and this Master.
I'm a good genie. I would dare to say I'm one of the best. Sure, I've been imprisoned for millenia to do this job, but, dammit, I do my job how it's supposed to be done!
Genies like me belong in the palms of kings taking over countries, establishing empires. People with
plans
.
Instead I'm stuck with--and no offense, because he seems like a genuine sweetie--some slob whose diet consist mostly (judging from the bbq-stained boxes stacked in the corner) of sauce-sprayed pizza enhanced with a healthy amount of marijuana and beer. His gut is only just developing--he's young--but it's definitely there.
At this point, we've already been through the whole rigmarole:
Holy crap, is this real? You're a for real genie? Where did you come from? This crazy lamp my uncle got me? But why now? Oh, because I rubbed it?
I don't know why so many people have eclectic uncles who never wind up using the lamp itself, but it sure is a theme with me.
"So these rules," says my new Master. "How fixed are they?"
"Think rules like gravity," I say. "Or, I don't know, drug laws. Extremely."
He stands in front of his bong, moving it to one side, like he should hide it. That kind of stoner. You know they type. He's cute, in a sort of young mannish way. He's got more hair than he knows what to do with and an overactive libido that isn't helped by being around an absolute epitome of feminine perfection like me.
"God. You're so hot, though. And you said you belong to me. You called me 'Master.' That's like, a big fantasy of mine. Can I just..."
He reaches out to touch me, probably stroke my hair. I don't blame him. In fact, after millennia of no contact, I would welcome the touch. But inches before he can get there, the barrier activates and pushes him away.
"Oh," he says, disappointed. "I was hoping to touch you."
"Also against the rules. Nothing I can do about it, Master. I'm so sorry."
I really am. I see his bulge straining against his pants. It looks so fucking yummy. Lots of guys spend their first wish on a bigger Cock.
I'll try to talk him out of it if he does. First, it's so rare that a guy actually needs a bigger Cock. Like, if a girl has already agreed to go to bed with you, what you're packing between your legs isn't going to change her mind.
Especially if you go down on her first! You could practically have a string of lima beans going on there if you really know how to lick a clit proper.
Trust me; I've watched thousands of years of sex from all over the world. All you need to win a lady's heart is a willing tongue.
But I'd dissuade him too because, gosh. It looks huge already. My mouth is watering, tits heaving as I look him over. I bit one lip, feeling a bit guilty. I know how sexy it makes me look when I'm kneeling like this. It's only going to make him want to fuck me more.
One of the demon's curses on me was to make me want sex as much as possible; and I do. I so fucking do. I get excited when I look at Cock. In fact, all I want to do is make Master's Cock happy, no matter who that Master is.
My Master's Cock becomes the only one in the world to me, and I want to go above and beyond to make it thrilled, excited, delighted beyond measure.
It doesn't help that I'm a fan of "little extras" in my wishes. Giving them more than what they bargained for. I can't help myself; I just want the best for my Masters, no matter who they are or where they come from. And what's best is so easy for me to give...a little extra money here, a little extra girth there, a little extra animal magnetism here, and so on.
So, looking at his bulge--his
big
bulge--I can't help but want to give him more than what he's thinking he can have.
"You can take it out," I say, licking my lips. "You can stroke it if you want."
